


entreaty and effort

by orphan_account



Category: VIXX
Genre: (ish?), Angst with a Happy Ending, Fairy Tale Elements, First Kiss, Gen, Idiots in Love, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 12:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12817344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The world rushes back to Hakyeon, jostling him back into himself. He turns halfway around and aims a grateful smile at Hongbin. "Finish chopping those onions, would you? And the carrots. See how much time is on the rice cooker."Hongbin's hand grazes Hakyeon's hip as he sets about his assigned tasks, and Hakyeon could sob with relief. He has not faded yet.





	entreaty and effort

**Author's Note:**

> This is a magic-realism-y canon fic I've been sitting on a while and just now got around to finishing it. I'd like to come around ~~someday when I don't have 90 wips~~ and revisit this in a bit darker way, but right now, I don't want that, you don't want that, let's have some nice romance.

It would be trite. The running dark-circle joke, which rips a tiny piece of Hakyeon away with each iteration, would be rendered even less funny than it is already, if Hakyeon simply became transparent. It's gratifying, then, that he does not fade literally.

***

"Sanghyuk-ah, could you please come help me with dinner? Taekwoon and Wonshik won't be home from the studio until late, and I want the rest of us to eat, at least."

"Hyung, I—" Sanghyuk pauses on the threshold between living area and kitchen. "The manager committed me to a solo choreography video. I'm about to go to scheduled rehearsal. Did he not mention it?"

Hakyeon pauses, an onion in one hand and a knife in the other, humming in consideration. "I suppose he may have, and it slipped my mind before I put it on the calendar." A beat. "Don't be out too late. We still have interviews in the morning."

" _Hyung—_ "

"And be safe!" Hakyeon trills, ushering Sanghyuk away from the kitchen, awkwardly wielding his hip as a battering ram. 

Hakyeon is left alone in the kitchen, going through the motions of preparing enough bibimbap for six very tall men. As he carefully prepares each ingredient, chopping everything methodically, his focus on the task at hand begins to slip gradually away. It isn't a long process, but it is tedious. The longer he is alone, the more distant he feels, until he's tipping beef into the skillet with his body entirely on autopilot.

Shuffling footsteps at the threshold of the kitchen. "Hyung," he hears, muffled, as if through a fog. In some ways, it is.

"Yes, Hongbinnie?" he asks. His own voice is as murky as Hongbin's.

"I heard Sanghyuk leave. Do you need help with dinner?"

The world rushes back to Hakyeon, jostling him back into himself. He turns halfway around and aims a grateful smile at Hongbin. "Finish chopping those onions, would you? And the carrots. See how much time is on the rice cooker."

Hongbin's hand grazes Hakyeon's hip as he sets about his assigned tasks, and Hakyeon could sob with relief. He has not faded yet.

***

It happens more slowly, with people around him. Of course it does. Their fleeting attention sustains him, pleasantries and inquiries about the work he's doing. And yet, it isn't ever enough, but at least when he's taxied from interview to interview to solo schedule to practice, he can chalk it up to exhaustion. He's been in this game long enough to seem sincere even if he's fighting to _stay_. He is warm and chipper and always up for whatever the industry throws at him. He is one of Korea's darlings, even if he can't quite see his fans, hear their shrieks.

He clasps a girl's hand. "Thank you, Jieun. I'm very glad you enjoyed my performance." In a musical. Which musical? "I hope you'll anticipate our future activities." _Which musical_?

When he stumbles in from solo activities at two in the morning, Hakyeon collapses on the couch in the living area, fumbles for the remote. Flips the channel to the Home Shopping Network. Closes his eyes. If he closes his eyes, it's _meant_ to be dark, and if he's asleep, he isn't meant to be tethered here.

He doesn't want to wake. It's not the result of some Thanotic impulse; it's just better, like this, unaware of how far he's slid out of himself. Maybe one of the members will shake him awake and ask about their schedules tomorrow, and he'll fall back down into his body for a bit, brief jolts of color and sensation. Maybe they won't and he won't, but if he sleeps, he doesn't care.

There is a blanket draped over him when he wakes up. It's warm and soft and smells like Taekwoon's bed. Hakyeon curls up a bit tighter beneath it, presses his face into the fabric, and inhales. Feels happy, just because he can.

***

His mother never spoke about the nature of their ancestry, and Hakyeon would not have known to ask, had he not made the decision to audition at Jellyfish Entertainment. His mother and father have always been affectionate and supportive of Hakyeon. They are not distant, like so many families now. Hakyeon cherishes his parents as an extension of his career. He must succeed, so that they will live comfortably.

It was understandable, then, that his first weekly phone call home—all that was allotted to new trainees—had taken the tone of sheer panic.

"I—I don't know what's wrong with me, I feel like I'm—" Words failed him. "I feel like I'm constantly fighting my way through fog. The thick kind that the driver's ed book warns you about. And it's like...I have to drag myself through each moment. I—I think I'm going crazy. Am I that stressed? Can stress do this?"

_Hakyeon_ , she said, _I have to confess something to you_. Generations ago, when there was still magic in the world, one of Hakyeon's ancestral grandfathers had fallen in love with one of the fairy folk. They had some unimportant number of children, and eventually, down the line, Hakyeon was born of that bloodline. 

The fairy-grandmother had begun to fade as soon as she spoke her wedding vows. It was by the virtue of her husband's love for her that she remained at all. As these things do, Hakyeon's mother explained, that love faded. With it, so did Hakyeon's ancestral grandmother, until she died. Her gravestone said that she died of a broken heart. To everyone outside the family, this was true. And to those in matrilineal succession— _that's you, Hakyeon_ —it was less and less crucial, the blood of the fairy folk diluted until it ran almost clear.

They would not die, his mother reassured him. They would simply wilt, without love, like honeysuckle left on the vine, Hakyeon, isn't that cute? It's your birth flower.

That was it, then. He was alone at Jellyfish's headquarters. He was bereft of his mother's love, and he couldn't _focus_.

_I know it's hard, my sweet, sweet boy_ , she said, and Hakyeon heard tears behind her voice. _I'm so sorry. I know you'll make the best of a bad situation. You've always been bright. So bright._

***

"Hyung," he hears through a barely-present haze. It's his birthday. They're celebrating in the dorm, attention lavished on Hakyeon to the point of embarrassment. Hongbin is a little drunk, happy with it, touchier than usual. "Happy birthday."

"You've said that three times already, Hongbinnie," Hakyeon teases, swirling an open soju bottle idly.

"I want to tell you a bunch, so you _hear_ me," Hongbin retorts, and chucks a balled-up napkin across the room at Jaehwan, where he's shaking his ass to what might be EXID but also might be Red Velvet. "You're never around anymore, and I didn't think I'd miss you. You're loud and obnoxious and clingy. But I— _aish_." He downs whatever's in the shot glass in his hand. "Never fucking mind."

Something sparkly and golden lights up inside Hakyeon, and he lunges down the coffee table to crush Hongbin against him. He feels Hongbin's skin under his hands and against his body and can smell him, cologne and deodorant, shampoo and the slight tang of alcohol sweat. If Hakyeon were braver, if he kissed Hongbin's hair, he knows he would taste salt on his lips. As is, though, he lets Hongbin fight his way free of Hakyeon's arms, Hakyeon drawing his knees to his chest and burying his face in them. " _Ah_ , our Hongbin, so cute!"

"Fucking call me cute again," Hongbin grumbles, measuring out another shot, and Hakyeon sees that it's rum. "I'll cringe myself out of existence. Then where will you all be? The same place. Jaehwan can just sub in for my _one_ line."

There's the sound of shattering glass from the kitchen, quickly followed by Wonshik's dismayed bellow, and Hakyeon sways to his feet, making to leave and do damage control. Hongbin's eyes follow him out of the room, and the quiet haze does not return.

***

There is a special irony in being danced around by Hongbin, which stems entirely from the infamy of their _Toxic_ routine. They'd danced together, and now they dance around each other. Hakyeon laughs to himself and looks over the lip of his sundae dish.

As Hakyeon delicately fishes out the dregs of ice cream and fruit, Hongbin, the quintessential bachelor, lifts his own dish up and upends it over his mouth, scraping the spoon loudly against the glassware. It gets the job done. Hongbin puts the abused glass down and dabs at his mouth with his napkin, deceptively polite.

"Thank you for coming with me," Hakyeon chirps. He can see every verdant leaf on every tree, can taste the syrupy sweetness of strawberries and expensive ice cream. It is ambrosia to him. "I've wanted to try this place every time we visited."

Hongbin's gaze cuts to the side until he remembers that they are alone. There is no need to put on his _fuck-this-hyung_ image; he won't impress anyone with his cool treatment of Hakyeon. Hongbin visibly shakes himself, and he doesn't quite look Hakyeon in the eye when he speaks.

"Thank you for inviting me." Hongbin's lips pull into a shade of his wide grin. "I feel like you never see us anymore. Busy hyung."

"We're all busy," Hakyeon retorts, lapping the final remnants of ice cream from his spoon. "It's why we're doing so well for ourselves."

"Yeah, how else would Jaehwan fund his designer addiction?" Hongbin's tone is as caustic as ever, and when it isn't directed at Hakyeon, the friction warms him. "I'm glad." Hongbin pauses. "In the end, we only need to be close enough to function. We're, what? Glorified coworkers."

Hongbin doesn't pull away when Hakyeon reaches across the white-clothed table, snatching Hongbin's hand in both of his. It is covered completely; Hongbin's palm is soft and his knuckles are smooth against Hakyeon's skin. He squeezes Hongbin's hand, runs his fingers over Hongbin's palm. He's distracted by the freedom of touch Hongbin is allowing him, and it takes him longer than usual to find words.

"I said _ourselves_. We're each doing well, yes, but we're doing well for each other. We live together. We share meals. You five are the first things I see when I wake up, and I can't sleep until I know you're all safe. Sometimes, that means checking in at five different places. Or prying _you_ from your computer." Hakyeon thinks for a moment, takes a deep, meditative breath. "We take care of each other, Hongbinnie. Whatever we are, we're not coworkers. At the very least, we're friends."

Hakyeon watches Hongbin's brow furrow. His eyes drop, but not before Hakyeon catches the conflict behind them. This pensive Hongbin is gone in a flash, replaced by his devil-may-care facade. "You're right, hyung. Chemistry, history, and shared trauma."

***

By Hakyeon's reckoning, Wonshik is the cuddliest member of their group. He's someone who's reassured by touch, like Hakyeon himself, and who rarely shrugs off an arm across his shoulders or a warm body in his lap. 

Hakyeon presses his face to Wonshik's chest beneath the covers. Wonshik snores, but it's not as bad as they've made it out to be. It's a nice counterpoint to the haze that Hakyeon has just recently noticed seeping in, slower and more insidious than usual. It's coincided with the dorm's sudden emptiness, all of them busy with their individual activities. 

As Hakyeon shifts again, restless, Wonshik throws an arm around him and flexes, crushing Hakyeon against him. Rather than being painful, it feels secure. It feels secure when Wonshik slurs something incomprehensible and hooks a leg between Hakyeon's thighs. Even though he's almost uncomfortably warm with Wonshik wrapped around him, he doesn't want to move enough to push the blanket down. 

Although he slips into sleep later than Wonshik, who's a master of sleeping where he falls, Hakyeon wakes first, and he spends his time drowsing in Wonshik's arms, noting that the fog has thickened today. It shouldn't have; all the members are home.

_Except Hongbin_ , Hakyeon's lizard brain nags. Hongbin is across the country, provided lodging at a hotel while he films a drama. 

Hakyeon pushes the thought away and wriggles up the mattress until he can bury his face in Wonshik's neck, refusing to allow his mind to run in circles. It’s fortunate that Wonshik chooses that moment to stir awake, slurring something about how Hakyeon is fidgeting too much.

Hakyeon’s planner states that Hongbin will be gone for three more days, which puts his return right at the precipice of a tour. Hakyeon himself is rushed from meeting to individual schedule to meeting, finalizing designs and plans and lining up his replacements in various capacities.

The harder Hakyeon attempts to concentrate, the less he retains. Hakyeon’s input is only ever required for ten minutes out of the hour, but his mind wanders, the fog growing thicker every time he thinks of home. His phone buzzes in his pocket. Someone asks Hakyeon if this t-shirt design will suit all six of them. He nods, distracted. His phone buzzes again. The fog clears a bit; someone must have addressed him directly in the group chat.

He is dismissed from the meeting at the end of the hour—it’s eleven at night, now—and ushered out of the building, into the car which will take him back to the dorm. On the ride, he jots down notes, just small bits he recalls from the day. Diet plans. Radio hosts. T-shirts. Taekwoon has been feeling under the weather. He needs to make sure Taekwoon feels okay.

When he checks his phone, the mention of his username is given context. _Hakyeon-hyung, we’re going to catch a late showing of that movie Wonshik wants to see. Do you want to come with us? Drinks after._

_No, thank you,_ he types in response. He’s pleased at how well he’s trained them, raised them to grudgingly include him in their plans. _I’m very tired from my schedules today. I hope you enjoy the movie. And DON’T stay out too late, I have diet plans for you to start tomorrow morning._

A chorus of boos lights up Hakyeon’s phone and he smiles. Tips his head back, exhausted.

***

The dorm is completely empty when Hakyeon returns, a note left for him on the counter which says almost exactly what the message did, with added hearts and doodles around the edges. He folds it up carefully and puts it in his jacket pocket. Weighs his options. He could go straight to bed. He could eat something small and check in on his absent member.

That one, he decides, rinsing off a couple of handfuls of grapes, settling down in front of the television, which turns on to reveal one of Jaehwan’s flashy, screamy shows. Hakyeon mutes it and video calls Hongbin, who picks up quickly, his face dotted with acne cream. “Hyung,” he starts. “You should be asleep.”

The fog lifts almost entirely. Hakyeon’s heart feels like it doesn’t fit right in his chest—like something has clamped around it and tightened. He presses his lips together. “I interrupted something,” he guesses, popping a couple of grapes into his mouth.

Hongbin raises one eyebrow. “Always, but nothing you haven’t interrupted before.” When Hakyeon drops his jaw and gasps, scandalized, Hongbin clarifies, “I was in the middle of a game, hyung. Jesus.”

“I take back any intention I had of asking you how you’re doing. Clearly, you’re fine.” Hakyeon is delighted and terrified, his suspicions confirmed.

“I am fine,” Hongbin confirms. “Tired. Wondering why my nosy hyung isn’t in bed like the old man he is.”

Hakyeon eats a few more grapes, scooting them around in his mouth so he can speak. “I can’t want to check up on my precious dongsaeng?” Hongbin visibly cringes. “You aren’t home, so it’s not like I can just knock on your door.”

“Oh, you’re knocking now?” Hongbin ripostes, but it holds no heat, his lips pulling into a grudging smile. “No, hyung, I’m fine. Filming is…filming. If I have to do one more take of the kiss scene, I’m demanding sponsorship by a lip balm company. You should look into that.”

Pride and a twinge of something hot and uncomfortable fight behind Hakyeon’s lips, but what comes out is, “You know what? If you write the proposal, I’ll bring it up.”

“That honestly sounds like so much more effort than I want to put in,” Hongbin drawls. He stretches out on his hotel bed. “Ah, hyung, it’s so late. You really should sleep.”

“Ah, Hongbin,” Hakyeon mimics, “I just want to hear your voice. Tell me about your game.”

“You’re going to fall asleep, you do every time,” Hongbin argues, but his voice is fond. “Ugh, fine.”

***

_I know you'll make the best of a bad situation_ , Hakyeon hears his mother’s voice say in his dreams. And then Hongbin’s voice drifts in— _I can also summon a…it’s a spirit dragon. It travels in a line. There’s two of them, actually. Hyung, you’re going to fall asleep. Your phone’s going to die. Ugh. Your mouth is open._

***

Hakyeon wakes up with the urge to _do something_. His ears fill with a low buzz, just this side of annoying, and his vision isn’t quite right, like a clear plastic film has been placed over his eyes. It only impels him further to _act_ , but _how_ is the question.

He feels absolutely disgusting after falling asleep on the couch, stiff and dirty. He showers, brushes his teeth. His phone buzzes. The film clears. It settles back in again by the time he’s done in the shower. He doesn’t linger on it, because he has another day of meetings ahead of him, and everyone in the dorm is hungover.

They wake with varying degrees of protest, and once he’s deemed them all fit to go out into the world, Hakyeon hugs them all, one by one, and leaves.

***

In the end, Hakyeon doesn’t need to do anything. He is preparing to leave the Jellyfish building one day before Hongbin arrives home, and he runs into…Hongbin.

“Ah, hyung,” Hongbin exclaims, startled. “My filming ended a day before the actual series’s filming. They sent us the series schedule.” He slams his locker shut. “You’ve been dieting. You look thin.”

“You will be, too, soon,” Hakyeon argues. “I’m glad you’re home.”

They stare at one another for a long moment, Hongbin turning away from the locker bank to face Hakyeon full-on.

When they speak, it’s both of them at the same time.

“Hyung, I—“ Hongbin starts.

“I know you like me,” Hakyeon steamrolls over him. “Really, I can’t blame you. I’m likable.”

Hongbin’s brow knits. “Okay, hyung, what the fuck?”

“Language,” Hakyeon corrects automatically. “Don’t lie.”

Hongbin shifts his weight and hefts his bag on his shoulder, not meeting Hakyeon’s eyes. “You’re a flirt, Cha Hakyeon, and you’re nice to everyone. I’m sure a lot of people like you. Could you stop being…odd, now? I’ll get over it.”

“I don’t want you to get over it.” He thinks of Hongbin’s eyes, clear in his vision, the night of Hakyeon’s birthday party. His gentle touch at Hakyeon’s hip in the kitchen, his voice lulling Hakyeon to sleep. Hakyeon could fall in love with that, with those little, quiet moments between the two of them. He loves Hongbin already, in the way you have to love someone to spend so much of your life together. He could fall in love with Hongbin, too.

“Oh, no, hyung, Jesus Christ—“ Hongbin protests as Hakyeon winds his arms around Hongbin, and thrashes around so that Hakyeon’s kiss lands on his chin. “Hyung, what—“

Hakyeon frees one arm to bap him on the head. “Yah, I like you too, so cooperate with me.”

Another exasperated _ugh_ escapes Hongbin, but he obediently kisses Hakyeon, and that sparkly, golden thing lights up inside Hakyeon again. He chases it, desperate, and Hongbin steadies him, guides Hakyeon as he takes and takes. Fills himself up with that warmth until there’s nowhere left for the fog. Kisses Hongbin until they lose their senses in another way entirely.

***

“I’m part fairy. Way back on my mom’s side.”

“You’re weird, is what you are. Christ, pull the blanket up, Jaehwan likes to crash through the door unexpectedly.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/slowlorisvevo)
> 
> [tumblr](http://rapjoonhyung.tumblr.com)


End file.
